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How a Thing is Used
“Why, Mistah Gill.” Dorian stood in the open doorway. In his left hand was a bottle, with two fingers hooked about a shot glass. He’d tucked a book under his right arm. The tie and vest were gone, leaving the medic in shirtsleeves that’d been rolled up to the elbow. His uncovered eye took in the sight of the young man who fidgeted before him. “How might Ah be of service?” “Sorry to disturb you er..” Gill realised with sudden panic that he did not know the right way to address the man. Doc seemed too familiar, Dorian was out of the question and well that just left “Mr Adler.” he cringed at the sound of it and bobbed his head in deference for a reason he could not quite fathom. The scarlet hue of his cheeks announcing his awkward embarrassment to the older man and doubling Gills discomfort. Damn it Vas made this kind of thing look easy. He would have walked straight up, knocked the door and grabbed himself a drink with an easy smile and a bunch of natural talk that… Gill looked up suddenly, realising that Dorian had been standing there patiently waiting while he wandered around in his own head feeling like gorram feh feh pi goh. There must be something in the water, Dorian mused as Gill fumbled for a choice of words. With the bellicose exception of Keller, every male aboard this boat seemed tongue tied. Christ,he mused, Jacy can’t be threatening to sleep with all of them, can she?” The thought raised a half smile. “I erm wanted to talk to you. To thank you again for everything.” he shrugged, searching for the right words that would lead him to his question. “The shoes! and the help with Haddie. She’s doing really well now. We’d be lost on this ship without you I am certain. I saw Jacy earlier and she is looking great I am sure Vas will be really grateful and..” Gods he was a blithering idiot, what was he talking about? As words flowed out of his mouth he silently prayed for the deck of the LV to open up and launch him into the black never to be seen again… “and that Dillon guy you sorted him out really well, pitty he had to go although I suppose he wouldn't have been much good with all his organs back to front” nervous laugh “and well I suppose I’m not much good at that seeing as how I’m just still a kid.” he gulped in a breath of air and almost choked. Dorian listened to the locomotive of this young man’s stream of consciousness as it barreled onward. After a time, he understood there was a deeper subject here than just a hasty issuance of platitudes. Gill clearly wanted something...something that he was damned unnerved about raising with the medic. Adler contained his intrigue as he responded. “Ah was just headed fah tha medical lounge. Let’s continue our conversation there,” he offered, “unless this is somethin’ we should do in medbay?” “What? No.. no there’s nothing to... no the lounge sounds like perfection.” The lounge sounds like perfection? What the hell? Gill almost turned tail and ran right there and then but forced himself to stick with it. Gill followed the Doc as they made their way through the ship, pouring out his verbal diarrhea as he worked an intelligent route round to the true business of the evening. “Don't know what we would have done really if they hadn’t fixed you up the way they did on Valentine. Can't believe someone did that to you it looked really painful. Say what happened to the guy on Ezra that did it? Was it a guy? I bet he or she came off worse?” And so his task complete or at least the question delivered he stood there swaying slightly while staring up at a slightly bemused “Mr Adler” and waited for his answer. And there it is, Dorian thought. Apparently, Vas hadn’t seen fit to regale anyone with the full version of their night on Ezra. In and of itself, he found the omission equally intriguing, though for a wholly different line of reasoning than that expressed by Gill. “Tha lounge it is,” he said pleasantly. Soon, the pair were tucked into the comfortable chairs outside the infirmary’s entrance. With drink in hand, Dorian gave his witness. “Here’s how it is. Ah’d taken that kiln off tha boat tah finish Miss Jacy’s new teeth…” Gill sat listening with rapt attention as Dorian told his story in a way that only the Doc could do. Eyes wide and mouth agape he tried to imagine how he would have dealt with the situation and came to the conclusion that he would be buried six feet under the hot Ezra dust right now. Gods he couldn't even talk to another man without turning into a blithering idiot, what chance did he stand of protecting himself and his sister out in the verse. Dorian poured a fresh shot, enjoyed a sip, and then relaxed into the chair. “Ah made a mistake that night, thinkin’ Ah could talk mahself past a pair of rogue cops. Didn’t want tah pull a pistol fah fear of bringin’ Feds down on tha boat. Of course,” he shrugged, “we learned later that our mechanic had already made that choice fah us.” He raised the whiskey again, allowed himself the chance to savor it's richness. “If Vas Jat hadn’t come along when he did, Ah wouldn’t be here tonight tah enjoy yah company.” A silence fell. Adler studied his drink in the light from a stairway mark. Finally, he offered his last. “Don’t have many friends,” he said as the shot glass pirouetted in his fingers, “but Ah do count Vas.” After another sip warmed it's way down, the medic regarded the boy. “Ah see a question. Go on. Evahthing’s fair game between us.” “The cop.” Gill asked, “The woman. If she had made for her gun would you have done it? Would you have… turned her head into a chilli bowl? Would you have killed her?” “Fair question,” Dorian nodded, “with two answers. Short answer is ‘yes.’ Vas was involved with her partner, an’ countin’ on me as backup. The longer answer,” he continued, “is that she proved tha easy mark...a bystander by nature...prone tah inaction during both my beatdown and her partner’s.” He took a swallow. “She had tha advantage, yet allowed herself tah be disarmed, an’ then was a cooperative hostage. Ah hear she even masqueraded as crew when tha Feds raided us.” Dorian refilled his glass, then rested the bottle upon the end table. He thought to offer the boy a drink, then demurred. Whiskey was a proper pleasure, deserving a proper introduction. One’s ‘bourbon virginity’ must be taken in a genial atmosphere, not one awash in conversations of a dark nature. “She mentioned havin’ a son. That’d be a strong motivation tah betray her badge,” he said thoughtfully. “Ah don’t much care. We sent her home tah him. Won’t stop her dyin’ a thousand deaths of her own doin’, Mistah Gill. Ere go, mah bullet was not required. The preferable outcome.” “Thank you.” Gill replied with a sudden grin as the realisation that he now had what he needed to get Vas to help him. He couldn’t wait to find him and tell him… but first he needed to find his gorram sister. She was not happy about the new status quo in engineering and she was not the type to sit on her hands when life wasn’t going in her direction. “Thank you very much Mr Adler.” Gill offered his hand for the Doc to shake. It seemed the grown up thing to do. “Dorian, please,” Adler returned the handshake. “Some of these folk prefer ‘Doc.’ Ah’ll respond tah either.” Gill took his abrupt leave, in the manner of all young teenaged boys. The sense of purpose in his departure gave Dorian to understand that their conversation had served some hidden purpose. “Cum se, cum sa,” he muttered as the book opened on his lap. It looked to be a pleasant evening.